


Rhythm

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 13:23:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11336388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: An interesting case takes second-season Mulder and Krycek to a nightclub.





	Rhythm

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Rhythm by Mick C.

Rhythm  
by Mick C.  
This little bit of story is worked up for the M/K small spaces challenge. It may not be exactly what was asked for, but hey, I'd have to be something of a rule-flaunter anyway or I'd not be here. =G=   
Disclaimer: Slash fiction. That mean same-sex interaction. Proceed at your own risk. If you are under the legal adult age for your country, don't proceed at all. Come back when you're legal. We'll still be here.   
Content warning: None to speak of. A strong word or two and some taking the Lord's name in vain. No outright sex, but a lot of serious leading up to sex stuff.   
These characters belong to Chris Carter and Ten Thirteen Productions. No copyright infringement intended. No profit to be derived and all that crap. I'm just playing with them, like virtual male Barbie Dolls. I promise to return them when I'm done.   
Questions and comments may be sent to   
Thanks and big hugs to my beta readers, torch, Misha and Ari. 

* * *

Rhythm  
by Mick C.

'Oh this is just terrific,' Mulder sulked as he watched the two men they'd been tailing move up in line and present themselves to a large man guarding a black painted, flyer covered door with the legend, "Rhythm", emblazoned overhead. 

It had already been an evening of unparalleled unexcitement as he and Krycek had followed the men from an early dinner, a movie and now to this dance club. At no time had the men spoken to or met with anyone, seeming to be simply enjoying a friendly evening out in each other's company. The two men had planned this Friday night out at their jobs earlier in the day, and it was seen as a fine time to place a wiretap and other means of surveillance in their apartments. Mulder and Krycek, in lieu of sitting in a closet with headphones strapped to their heads, were actually allowed out "in the field". Their task of the day was to alert the-powers-that-be when the men began to head for home. As far as Mulder could tell, they had no intention of heading for home any time soon. They seemed bent on making a night of it. 

They had apparently passed inspection of the massive figure guarding the entrance, because the man jerked his thumb disdainfully and the men opened the door and disappeared inside. The next couple in line stepped forward hopefully, and the rest of the crowd surged forward, but did not dare encroach upon the wide circle of personal space the doorman maintained through sheer physical intimidation. 

"So, now what?" Mulder glanced at his partner, knowing their chances of following the suspects inside without flashing their badges were virtually non-existent. 

"Well, we're supposed to be tailing them. So I guess that means we go in." Alex Krycek grinned at him, but Mulder was not in the mood for humor. It had been a long and boring night already and he wanted to go home and get on with his real work. They may have shut him down officially, but he had his own files at home, and his own resources. What he did on his own time was his business. The problem was, he seemed to have less and less of his own time. The long hours of overtime, of sitting in cramped spaces listening in on the excruciatingly mundane lives of people suspected of blackmailing senators or perpetrating mail fraud was a complete and total waste of his time. They didn't even give him the faintly interesting cases like heroin trafficking or arms dealing. The DA and AFT boys got those assignments. *He* got fresh faced young partners to baby-sit. He scowled at Krycek, then experienced a twinge of guilt as Krycek's smile faltered and slid away. 

"Krycek, we're not dressed for a club scene. The minute we walk into the place there'll be a stampede of people toward the bathrooms trying to flush their drugs away before the rest of the raid follows us through the door." Mulder stared sourly out of the window at the press of young people milling about. He glanced back at his partner and found Krycek looking him up and down thoughtfully. 

"I think we can pass for as long as we need to, Mulder. I've got an idea that might help." 

Mulder looked at the eager young face and sighed. "All right, out with it. If we don't do something soon, we might as well call it a night and go back to write reports explaining why we blew our tail." He knew he was being a bit sullen, almost surly, but these sorts of assignments really rankled. They wasted his time, and as every year passed he felt more and more that time was something he could not afford to waste. For the hundredth time he reminded himself that all of this was not Krycek's fault, and added in a gentler tone, "What's your idea?" 

"Take off your shirt and tie. Your undershirt too." 

Mulder stared blankly at Krycek for a moment. "My undershirt? Krycek, what does getting naked in a parked car have to do with tailing FBI suspects?" 

"Not naked, Mulder. Well, okay, the top half of you, yes." Krycek had removed his own jacket and tie and was undoing the buttons of his shirt. "Hurry up Mulder, or we'll lose them. They could be using a back way out of there." 

"You still haven't told me what we're doing," Mulder glanced instinctively toward the warehouse-turned-club, looking for exit points. "Am I going to attract a hoard of admirers by flashing my naked torso so you can slip in unnoticed? There's flaws in that plan Krycek..." Mulder murmured, turning back toward his partner. Instead of the curve of a strong jaw and a decidedly pointed ear framed by close-cut dark hair, he found himself speaking to Krycek's rear end. Krycek had twisted in his seat and was hanging over the back, digging through the workout bag on the floor behind the driver's seat. "Krycek, now is not the time for car aerobics." Mulder peered over the seat, curious now as to what his partner had in mind. 

"What we're doing, Mulder, is trying not to look like a couple of federal agents." Krycek came up flushed and triumphant, waving the black tank shirt he wore while working out. It was the kind that was cut deep on the sides, leaving most of the ribs bare. He pulled it over his now naked torso and tucked it into his pants, blousing it so that it gaped loosely. He looked up, catching Mulder's eye. 

"Come on, Mulder. Off with it. We'll never get in at this rate!" 

Krycek reached for him and tugged the edges of his shirt free of his pants. Mulder jumped at the touch so low on his body. "Thanks, but I can do that myself." He batted at Krycek's hands and shifted a bit away from him. The enclosed space of the car's interior and the strange intimacy of shedding clothes while sharing that confining space did things to the pit of Mulder's stomach. The brush of Krycek's fingers at his waist had made him even more uncomfortable. 'Christ, Mulder, you need to get a date. Soon.' Mulder shook his head at his sudden nervousness as he shrugged out of his jacket. This was only Krycek. It was ridiculous to be feeling slightly embarrassed - or anything else, for that matter. Not looking at his silent young partner, he quickly removed his shirt and tie. He did glance at Krycek as he pulled the T-shirt over his head. There was no way he was getting out of this car in just his pants, shoes and socks. 

"Is there a tank shirt in the bag for me, Krycek?" He raised an eyebrow at Krycek in challenge. He was seconds away from forgetting Krycek's whole "idea" and going back to the office to file reports. 

Krycek grinned at him with an almost wicked glint in his eye. "No. You don't get a shirt. Just put your jacket back on. That's a nice suit. Armani, isn't it? It'll look good with no shirt under it. Real hot." 

"Real sleazy you mean," Mulder muttered. 

Krycek laughed a little and reached toward him, helping him get the jacket back on. Mulder was again struck by the strange intimacy of what they were doing as Krycek adjusted the fit of the jacket on his shoulders. "You've got a nice long neck, and not too much chest hair." Krycek palms slid down the lapels, smoothing them, his thumbs over the edge of the fabric, brushing bare skin. "Makes you look sexy rather than sleazy. Now if you had a pelt and a gold medallion, *that* would look sleazy." 

Mulder looked up from where Krycek's hands rested against his chest and realized Krycek was laughing at him. He had to retaliate--and distract himself from the sensations this very strange conversation was engendering. "You're looking a bit sleazy there yourself Krycek." Krycek did not seem to be terribly cut up by his less dazzling comeback. Instead, Krycek threw him a look that could only be described as sultry and reached up and turned the rear view mirror toward himself, twisting a curl of hair down over his forehead. "Not sleazy, Mulder; sluttish. And that's the general idea." Krycek cast another look over his mostly bare shoulder that caused muscles on Mulder to twitch that had no business twitching. "I think we can pass now," Krycek smiled at him. 

"As what? A pimp and the number one pony in his stable?" Mulder was hugely annoyed that his voice came out in an outraged squeak. Krycek laughed and Mulder, watching, found the that atmosphere inside the car had become somehow electrified. He opened the door and exited quickly, slamming it shut. The air on his bare neck and chest was cool and startling, and he drew in several deep lung fulls, trying to cool the heat that had swept over him from nowhere. He jumped as Krycek appeared suddenly beside him, placing a hand on his arm. Mulder saw in Krycek's eyes a twinkle he'd never seen before, and frowned slightly, not wanting to become a source of amusement for his younger partner. 

"Come on, Mulder, hopefully we haven't lost them with all this dawdling." Krycek twinkled at him again and moved away toward the press of young people, for once taking the lead. Looking at the surging mass of young, twenty-something bodies, Krycek's blending naturally into the crowd, he suddenly felt like a old man - and bit out of his depth. 

"I don't do dance clubs," he muttered to himself, eyes on Krycek as he skirted the line and went directly for the doorman. Krycek totally disregarded the man's clearly defined personal space and sailed right up to him, standing close enough to count the individual hairs of the man's razor stubble. Mulder prepared himself to draw his gun if one of the ham-sized fists took aim and swung at Krycek's head. Far from being pummeled into a bloody smear, Krycek was laughing, moving one hand up to lightly brush the doorman's chest with the tips of his fingers. He could be mistaken, but it looked for all the world like Krycek was flirting with the man! Mulder's shook his head, dismissing that idea out of hand. In the next moment Krycek lifted his other hand and offered it up to the muscle-bound man. The man pressed a stamp to the back of Krycek's hand and slid an arm around his waist, bending to whisper something in his ear. Krycek laughed, whispered something back, and turned to look at him just as he reached them. 

"Here he is now." Krycek smiled at him, then at the doorman. To his utter shock, Krycek slipped from the man's hold and moved to him, sliding an arm around his waist, leaning into him. The doorman looked him up and down sourly then shrugged. "Yeah, well," the man grumbled, "when you want some meat on the bone, you know where to find me, hot stuff." The man flexed a massive biceps, and glared a challenge at him, but Mulder was having a hard enough time keeping his mouth from gaping in shock. Trading macho challenges with a steroid case was well beyond his capacity at the moment. 

The clingy wetness of the stamp pressed harder than necessary against the back of his hand brought him back to his senses. He was still trying to gather his wits when the door opened and a wall of sound slammed into him. "Pay inside!" the man barked at them and shoved him through. Krycek paid an even larger man on the other side of the door, and took off down the black painted hall toward a bright, pulsating square of light and noise. 

Mulder felt for a moment like he was suffocating as Krycek led him down the narrow hall. The heat, the dense pall of cigarette smoke laced heavily with marijuana, the smell of sweaty, alcohol soaked bodies, and the deafening roar of the music that hit him when they stepped from the hall into the vast, open room, caused his senses to momentarily overload. He felt as if he'd stepped from the real world into an alternate one filled with sound and strobing light. He fastened his gaze on the back of Krycek's head as if it was an anchor to the world on the other side of the door as Krycek towed him through the press of bodies into the depths of the club.

The place was jammed. Young, gyrating bodies were packed in well beyond the number allowed by local fire regulations. Mulder felt stunned, like he'd been hit over the head with a blunt object. The music was so incredibly loud he felt more buffeted by it than by the surrounding dancers. He stopped suddenly, refusing to move any further as he struggled to gather his wits. Krycek, feeling the sharp pull on his arm as he stopped moving, turned back toward him, the surging mass of bodies shoving them together. Krycek leaned in even closer, yelling into his ear to be heard over the noise. "There they are, dancing by the speakers!" 

Mulder turned his head toward Krycek's glance and saw the two young programmers suspected of industrial espionage dancing together. He gaped in surprise as, just at that moment, one of the young men leaned in and kissed the other hotly. They'd been following these men all evening and until this moment he'd had no idea it was like *that* between them. Mulder felt something stir low in the pit of his stomach as he watched the men and quickly looked away at the surrounding dancers. All around them were other male couples, female couples as well, dancing to the driving music. The traditional male/female partnership seemed to be in a minority here. 

Mulder jumped at the sudden grip of a pair of strong hands on his hips. He turned his startled gaze toward his partner, who was trying to shift him from side to side. "What are you doing?" His hands came up to grip the pale, tightly muscled arms. "Dance Mulder, don't stand there and stare. We're already conspicuous enough!" Krycek yelled. His lips were pressed against Mulder's ear, his breath hot and warm, filling the curving cavity. "Mulder, dance!" Krycek yelled again. 

Mulder started to move as best as he was able in the crush and press of bodies. He felt strangely bewildered as he was jostled from side to side by the other dancers. "There's no room!" he screamed. He hoped that hadn't sounded as panicked as he felt. 

"Just hold onto me and move, you don't need much space!" Krycek yelled back. Mulder flushed as Krycek pressed against him, pelvis to pelvis. While Mulder searched his mind somewhat desperately for what to do next, Krycek hands settled on his shoulders and he started to move, rolling his hips in time to the driving, pounding beat of the music. Mulder's hands came up of their own accord and gripped Krycek's hips. He fought to regain some sense of normalcy, still trying to gather his scattered wits together. He was finding it increasingly difficult as the bump and grind of Krycek's groin against his own was sending all sorts inappropriate signals to his overloaded brain. He looked to the young agent helplessly, trying to make sense of what was happening and was arrested by what met his eyes. 

Krycek's head was thrown slightly back as he danced, the strong line of his neck stretched taut, a bead of sweat from the stifling heat of the place making a leisurely track downward. The thick black fringe of lashes rested against the paleness of his cheeks and his mouth hung slightly open as if he was breathing in the music. Krycek's body moved against his in a hip twisting, undulating rhythm. The flash, flash, flash, of the strobe captured each motion in an erotic freeze-frame image. As he stared, once again stunned, the thick lashes fanned upward as Krycek straightened, and he was impaled on the dark green gaze. 

A soft explosion of air left him as if someone had punched him hard in the stomach. Krycek's head snapped back a little as Mulder's breath hit him in face, then forward again, burrowing into the curve of his neck and shoulder. He could feel the bones of Krycek's cheek pressed against the underside of his jaw, and a shockwave of feeling rolled through his body. A whimper, lost in the violence of the music, escaped him at the brush of lips against his collarbone. He couldn't think. The thudding, pulsing, driving beat of the music mingled with the pounding of his heart and the throbbing of his rapidly hardening cock. This wasn't happening. It just wasn't. He couldn't allow... 

"Alex." The name left him in a breath of sound. Confusion and a strange sort of pleasant agony rolled through him as his hands slid up from Krycek's hips and into the open sides of his tank shirt. The feel of him was like warm velvet dewed with moisture. He knew that if he withdrew his hands now they would smell like Alex Krycek. His hands slid over that warm, damp flesh, pressing it closer. 

'I want...I want...I want...' the thought beat through his head in time to the music. What? What did he want? "I can't think," he whispered. Bodies pushed and jostled them, and he held on even tighter to the man in his arms, strangely fearing to lose him in this mass of humanity. Everywhere he looked there were bodies pulling and thrusting against each other, faces fierce or slack or twisted with a wild passion. His own body moved to the same rhythm, the flesh pressed so hard against his driving him to match the frenzy of the music. 

He felt Krycek's fingers slide into his hair and he turned his face toward the man who was driving all sense of reality away from him as surely as overwhelming music. Krycek came up from nuzzling his throat and looked at him, his eyes turned black and mysterious in the strobing light of the club. Krycek said something that was lost in the noise, his lips seeming to move with out producing sound. The one word Mulder recognized was his own name, the speaking of which did incredible things to the shaping of Krycek's mouth. The image of the two young programmers locked in a passionate kiss flashed through his brain, and with an incoherent mumble, Mulder covered the slightly parted lips with his own, his tongue seeking immediate entrance. Krycek stilled for one heart-pounding beat of the music then groaned into the kiss, pressing even harder against him. The hand in his hair fisted, tugging painfully, and the other slid around his neck. His own arms tightened around Krycek's back locking them together so close that for a split second no one else touched them. 

Their tongues took up the dance their bodies had abandoned, a warm, wet, velvet glide and thrust. Mulder squeezed even tighter and was rewarded by a whimper from Krycek that he felt more than heard. Krycek shifted somehow in the punishing grip and hooked one leg around the back of his thigh. Then all sound faded to a distant echo as they shifted once more and pressed tighter still, mouths opened and locked to each others in a kiss so deep and hot that it obliterated everything else.

At that moment he had no thought of where he was, or even who he was. All he knew was that in about one second, and from one single kiss, he was going to come as hard as he ever had in his entire life. 

"Go for it, Man! YEAH!" 

They both started violently as a voice shrieked near their ears. Mulder tore his mouth away from Krycek's, an animal snarl of fury escaping him as he looked for the destroyer of his blind passion. All he found was a faceless mass of twisting, thrashing bodies. A violent tremor from the body he held in his arms made him give up his angry search and turn back toward its source. Krycek was staring at him, eyes wide with shock and a touch of panic. 

"Alex, it's all right." Mulder's hand came up to touch Krycek's cheek gently. "I swear..." 

Mulder cut himself off as the two men they'd followed into the club shoved past them on their way to the exit. He kept his eyes fixed on them as the sea of bodies parted and rejoined. After a moment he took off after them, towing Alex behind him this time. He felt more himself now, more in control than when he'd entered the place. Maybe it was because he was escaping the noise. Maybe it was the trembling in the hand he held so tightly or the look on Alex's face when he'd turned back to him. Whatever it was, he was back in charge of himself and the situation. He was no longer being swept along on a wave of sound and the surprising metamorphosis of a stiff, almost geeky young partner into a sleek, sexual creature. Something had happened to him there on the dance floor. Something tremendous. He could feel it humming through his body, lodged between his legs. It made him feel incredibly alive and...hungry. His eyes tracked the two men like they were prey, and as he plunged after them, out into the night, he looked back at his partner and smiled. Something in his face made Alex's eyes widen and he laughed, licking his lips, tasting him still. 

He met the eyes of the doorman as they moved past him and gave him a wide, toothy grin. The doorman's eyes flicked from him to the shaken young man clinging to his hand and his eyebrows rose with surprise. Mulder shifted his grip to a proprietary arm around Krycek's waist and nodded to the man as he swept Krycek along to the car. He tucked his quiet, pliant partner in the passenger side of the car and got in, eyes still on his prey. 

"Buckle up, Krycek, we're off," and as he pulled away from the curb he raised a hand to his face, took a deep breath and smiled. 

Fin 


End file.
